


breathe me in (complete me)

by mdmaverickk



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, F/F, is this angst? I have no idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 01:14:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13307286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mdmaverickk/pseuds/mdmaverickk
Summary: Mina learns about the olfactory system in her neuropsychology class, that smells can stimulate the amygdala and the hippocampus.In not so many words: she likes the way Momo smells, and it reminds her of their love.





	breathe me in (complete me)

**Author's Note:**

> This one’s a little more personal for me. As always, comments and criticisms are greatly appreciated.

Of the five senses, the olfactory system is said to trigger the strongest of memories.

Mina understands this well. She is reminded of her mother and the family dinners of the Myoui home whenever she whips up a fresh pot of rice. The sharp brine of the sea breeze brings back memories of the many beach days spent with her friends back in Kobe. She doesn’t do as much dancing these days, but the scent of leather that wafts by when she walks by her ballet shoes is enough to draw her back to the studio for an hour or two.

While she’s in Seoul, the most memorable smell for her isn’t a thing or a place, but a person.

Momo has a distinct scent that permeates her being and everything around her. Mina senses it on her clothes, her bed, her hair, the soft skin at the nape of her neck that Mina likes to kiss before she falls asleep. It’s soothing, familiar, and lulls her into a state of comfort with ease.

She can never quite put her finger on it. Mina thinks it smells something like a cross between peach candy and flowers, emulating the soft sweetness that is Hirai Momo.

The first time Momo kisses her, it pours into her and smothers her in its warmth.

Mina tries to replicate the smell, but her efforts are mostly in vain. She doesn’t think that it’s her shampoo, nor her conditioner, nor her body soap. She uses the exact same ones, and she certainly does not smell like the object of her affections.

It is entirely a mystery, until Momo drops off a shirt that she had borrowed the week before, clean and freshly laundered. Mina puts it on, and the gentle scent of peach candy and flowers consumes her.

She texts Momo almost immediately, demanding that she send her a picture of her laundry detergent. The girl is understandably confused, but complies, and Mina can’t help but laugh at the sight.

It’s as loud as loud can be - garishly bright green and pink flowers, obnoxious lettering printed across the plastic proclaiming the proven cleaning potential of its contents. Mina sees it as a personification of Momo’s personality, boisterous and spirited and effervescent in every way.

 _Why the detergent?_ Momo asks.

 _No reason_ , Mina replies with a smile.

-

“I’m going home after graduation.”

Time stops. Mina feels like she is suffocating, unable to breathe or move or think. “Oh,” is all she says, rather lamely.

“I know that I said I would stick around in Seoul, but my parents want me to go home to pick up the family business sooner rather than later. The fact that I’m graduating next month and I still don’t have a job lined up for me here isn’t the most convincing situation to be in.”

Momo is rambling and Mina wants to tell her to stop. Stop, take a breath, let’s both calm down. But her words catch in her throat, her mouth running dry and her thoughts fleeing her.

(Stop, don’t say that, please don’t leave me.)

“But,” Momo finally pauses to inhale. “You’ll be graduating next year and you could come back to Japan too, right? Kobe is less than an hour away from Osaka. We could even move in together, for real this time.”

Momo is hopeful. Her voice lilts with forcefully injected positivity, and Mina desperately wants to believe it.

She wants to say something about her application to that amazing medical program in Seoul. Wants to bring up that internship she fought to get for the coming summer. Wants to mention how the plan they had agreed on was to find a way, any way, to stay in the city. With their friends and connections and the lives they had built, away from the prying eyes and judgment of their families.

But Momo is looking at her pleadingly, begging her to realize that she has little say in the matter. Mina sees it, and much as she wishes to deny it, she understands. So she says yes, yes, okay, it’s just a year. I’ll go home after graduation too.

Momo is holding her tight in a vicegrip of a hug, but Mina can feel herself crumbling apart.

-

The ride home from the airport is a long one.

She had taken a deep, deep breath in that one last hug before the gate, burying her face into Momo’s shoulder. There was a trace of salt in the warmth of the scent as her tears seeped into Momo’s sweater. It’s a pity, Mina thinks, that the recollections of love at the smell would now be tainted by feelings of pain.

In the time that she spends commuting home, she focuses on cementing the positive feelings in her mind. She tries, and tries, and tries to commit the smell to memory, but she can already begin to feel how fleeting it will be.

-

Mina awakens one day to realize that her sheets smelled like nothing in particular. A cold panic seizes her, and she rushes to the convenience store across the street from her home.

(Her home now. Hers, not theirs, or ours. Singular, not plural.)

She picks up a new bottle of laundry detergent - adorned with obnoxiously bright green and pink flowers, patterned over a plain white background. Mina places it by the washing machine, and uses it on her next load of laundry.

It’s similar, but altogether different, and invokes no memories whatsoever.


End file.
